


Nox

by overcastskeleton



Series: Hidden Confessions [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21866008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcastskeleton/pseuds/overcastskeleton
Summary: Some things are better off left in the dark...
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Reader, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Series: Hidden Confessions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582198
Comments: 18
Kudos: 256





	Nox

**Author's Note:**

> First fic for The Mandalorian, and I'm super excited. Honestly, it was always a matter of time before I ended up writing for him.

He comes under the cover of darkness, just as he always has.

You knew you would end up here, the moment you saw him in your cantina earlier in the afternoon. It was the first time you had seen him in two months, two months since you’d last shared your bed with him. 

It was a game the two of you played. Months without communication, a heated midnight meeting, and then farewell until the next time you’d repeat it again. 

You couldn’t really remember how this pattern began, or who had been the one to initiate it. But you didn’t mind, it became just another part of life. So you weren’t surprised when two raps on the door signalled his arrival. You were ready for him. 

Now you listen as he takes off his armor. It’s all methodical with him. Straps and buckles come undone and with them the _clunk_ of metal on the table. He’s careful, almost reverent, as he undresses. And then the loudest _clunk_ , which had to be his helmet. 

You shift, hands curling into the rough blanket impatiently. 

You’d never seen his face, but you didn’t really care. You were worried that if you saw the man behind the helmet, these late night rendezvous would have some meaning. That you wouldn’t just be two broken, fucked up hunters, looking for a brief moment of solace. That maybe you would come to care for him. 

That couldn’t happen. So, you settled for the pitch black rooms, the extra-cautious blindfold, the stolen kisses and rough touches. You didn’t need anything else. 

His footsteps pad quietly on the stone floor. The only warning you have of his closeness, before a calloused hand touches your jaw. 

You tilt your head up. It’s just for show, you can’t see anything. Not the heated gaze he gives you, nor the other hand that’s coming up to caress your cheek. Just darkness, pure and inky black like the night. 

His touches are soft, contrasting his usual harsh nature. The nature that’s all blood and blasters, bounty pucks and carbonite. They trail down your throat, to your chest, dotted with sweat and heaving with need. 

His fingers give a pinch here and there, a squeeze somewhere else. Just fleeting touches, nothing ever substantive. He’s teasing you, drawing out the sweet torture. 

It’s a side of him you never see outside this hallowed space. He’s always been straight to the point. Except when it’s just you and him, then he’s all for delaying the inevitable. It’s a game he only plays with you. 

Mando pushes your shoulders, and you fall back against the lumpy mattress with no resistance. It dips around you, as he climbs on top of you. There’s still no touching, except for the brief graze of his length, hot and heavy, against your lower stomach. 

It makes your head spin, and your mouth water. You press your thighs together and he chuckles above you, but there’s no humor in it. His heated gaze travels your body, like a cat watching a mouse. You feel it crawling over your skin like lava. 

And then his hands are on either side of your head, and he leans down to brush his lips against yours. 

The kiss is over as soon as it starts, and you chase him, craving the taste of his lips again. A hand in the center of your chest pushes you back down, a reminder that he was in control, not you. 

You huff, a pout crossing your lips. 

He runs a thumb over your bottom lip, tugging on it lightly. He’s stalling, trying to figure out where to start in his mission to make you fall apart beneath him. 

He kisses you again, longer and rougher this time. The whiskers on his chin burn as they rub against your skin. 

You reach for him, tracing the plains of his face with your fingers. Mando bites your palm, and it sends a shiver down your spine. 

The ache between your thighs is almost too much to bear. You lift your hips, hoping to catch a brush of his skin on yours. He pulls back, and though you can’t see the grin, you know he’s wearing one. 

“Stay still.” He mutters in your ear, running a finger through the valley of your breasts and down your body. It skates across your lower stomach in small circles, raising goosebumps along your skin. 

It’s torture in every sense of the word. You want to say something, anything just to make him really touch you, but you know it’ll be useless. Mando does what he wants, when he wants to. 

His hand finally dips between your thighs, and a finger runs through the moisture collected there. You moan as the rough digits spread out across your sensitive skin, pushing your legs apart. His lips are on you again, scattering kisses and bites up and down your throat. You gasp, tightening your fingers in his dishevelled hair and tugging when his lips latch onto your pulse, raising blood to the surface. You knew there would be a bruise there later, but it felt so good in the moment, that you didn’t care. 

Mando fits himself between your thighs, and thrusts against you. His breath is hot against your cheek and you turn your head in search of his lips.

They meet yours, and the kiss is hot and messy. You moan into it, and he swallows the noise down, gets drunk off of it. It’s like he’s trying to devour you, and you would gladly let him. 

The mess between your thighs grows with every pass of his cock against your clit. You move your hips in time with his thrusts, and this time he doesn’t chastise you. Your movements are almost frantic, desperate to reach the orgasm building in your lower stomach. 

He hooks a hand under the bend of your knee, and holds you tighter against him. There’s nothing between you but the delicious slide of skin against skin. You’re a moaning, pleading mess beneath him, just begging for release. 

The ember in your lower stomach grows to an untameable inferno, and you cry out as it overtakes you. It spreads throughout your body, licks through your veins with an intensity that threatens to overcome you. 

Mando peppers kisses to your shoulder, and you sigh, body going limp, as you come back down to earth. 

And then his hands are on you, and you feel the head of his cock press against your entrance. He sinks into you with a groan that mirrors your own. Your thighs spread to accommodate his girth, and he waits scattering kisses along your breasts as you adjust.

The groan he lets out when he starts thrusting is almost animalistic. Sex with him is always primal, as if the only time he can show his cracked composure is within these four walls. He wraps your leg around his waist, and changes his position to thrust deeper inside you. 

Your head falls back, lips parted in a shuddering gasp. “Mando,” you cry out, nails scratching at his sides. 

He bites your shoulder, hips snapping into yours faster, fueled by the littles noises that leave your lips. “Dyn,” he mutters against your skin. 

“What?” You ask, pulled from the moment. 

“Call me Dyn.” 

“That’s your...Dyn,” you test the name out. It’s heavy on your tongue with the weight of intimacy. It’s not a load you were prepared to carry tonight. 

He shudders on top of you, buries his face into your neck and thrusts with a new intensity that has you seeing stars. His hand moves to where your bodies are joined, and he rubs his thumb against your clit. You clench around him and he groans, his hips stuttering. 

“ _Dyn_.” 

He answers you with a grunt. “C’mon.” 

He’s close, you can feel it in the desperation of his thrusts, and the way he moans in your ear. He knows you’re close too, can read it in your body the same way he knows when you’re lying or when you’re close to a kill. It’s always unnerved you just how much he knows, when he’s still a complete enigma to you. 

Mando-- Dyn-- grabs your leg and pushes it up and towards your chest. He uses the new position to his advantage, thrusting at a new angle that has you falling apart in seconds. You come with a shout, chest heaving as your orgasm steals the breath from your lungs. He’s right behind you, burying himself inside you with with a final guttural grunt. 

You both lay like that for a while, listening to the ragged breathing that fills the room. He plants lazy kisses along your collarbone, spends a moment kissing the mark he made on your pulse; the pulse that’s moving from erratic to consistent. 

He kisses your eyes through the blindfold, and pulls out of you with a soft moan. 

You bask in the silence, listening as the routine begins. There’s the sound of running water, and then the cool drip of water on your thigh. You sigh, melting into his soothing touch as he cleans you up. It’s gone all too quickly 

“You can look now,” he says, voice distorted by the helmet. 

You untie the blindfold with deft fingers, and toss it to the side. “Where are you off to now?” You wrap your arms around your legs, and watch him put on the rest of his armor. 

“Wherever the tracking fob takes me.” 

You grin. “And where is it taking you?” 

“Corelia.” Dyn pulls on his boots and stands. “Big bounty.” 

“How big?” 

He turns to face you. “Why? You planning on stealing it from me?” 

“Maybe.” 

He walks over to you, runs his gloved hands up your thighs. “Big enough.” 

You bite your bottom lip, preparing to ask the question that’s now eating at you. “Why’d you tell me your name?” 

He shrugs. “Felt right.” 

“Felt...right?” You roll the explanation on your tongue. “Will you get in trouble?” 

“I won’t tell if you won’t.” He touches your cheek. “Thank you.” 

You can tell his eyes are sincere. They burn you with their gaze. It’s too much. You look away. “Don’t mention it.” 

“I’ll let you know when I’m back in this system.” He runs his thumb over your bottom lip. 

You nod. “Good luck.” 

He tilts his head to the side, studying you for a moment before nodding. “Stay out of trouble,” he says as he heads for the front door. 

“Don’t I always?” You joke back, but it feels off. 

A chuckle, and then he’s gone, swallowed up by the cloak of the night.

You drop your head into your arms when he leaves. The weight of the encounter threatens to crush you. He told you his name. _His name_. One step along the road to familiarity, a step that you weren’t ready to take. Who knows what the next step would be, but the destination was clear. One day he’d take off his helmet in front of you, and you’d see his face. That couldn’t happen. 

“Why’d you have to go and ruin a good thing?” You muttered, staring at the comlink you and Mando--Dyn-- used to communicate. The white lights flashed at you mockingly, and you grabbed it, stuffing it into the bedside table. 

The next time he called, you wouldn’t answer. 

Some things were better off left in the dark. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! Please let me know what you thought!
> 
> Find me on tumblr: queens-n-roses.tumblr.com


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